


Enemy in Common

by Nyxwrites, taggianto



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxwrites/pseuds/Nyxwrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggianto/pseuds/taggianto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A messy divorce has Greg Lestrade showing up on his ex’s doorstop unannounced. But Sebastian Moran has moved on in the six years they’ve been apart, and Greg finds him with a new man.  Something seems off about this Jim Moriarty fellow, and his offer to have Greg stay in their guest room might just turn out to be too good to be true. Especially since Mycroft Holmes seems to have taken an interest in the couple, and soon Greg finds himself under scrutiny as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Mystrade/Mormor fic Nyx and I have been working on for the last three months now (I can't believe it's been that long...) A very large portion of it is written, it just needs editing, so this should update fairly regularly. Thanks to Hannah_Baker for some light beta work as well <3

Greg Lestrade walked down the street along the side of a park. It was cold; the bitter autumn wind was blowing particularly hard that morning. Leaves of red and brown and orange blew across the cement beneath his feet like children playing a schoolyard game. Greg jammed his hands into the pockets of his over-sized coat and hunched his shoulders, determined to block out the world. His search for a new flat had taken him to some interesting places, but he had so far managed to avoid this particular location. To some extent, it was a shame; Michael would love the little playground in the back corner of the park. But this place was also home to something for which he had never quite forgiven himself.

He knew there was a bench somewhere to the left, with chipped paint and rusty nails that seemed so much more interesting in those quiet moments of pain. The first time he’d been there, they had read poetry; some long forgotten verse stirred in the chords of his memory. The last time he’d been there, it had been the day Greg walked away from someone for his own selfish purposes. He turned his cheek against the wind. He really didn’t want to be thinking about that right now.

Greg found himself stopping, facing the park with a simple turn of his shoulders. Trees, leaves dropping, the ground browned with dying grass and children playing on the multicolored play structure.

He found his feet carrying him along a familiar path, one he hadn’t walked in over six years. They brought him almost against his will to that red door he knew so well. The memories that still lingered inside that flat... he really shouldn’t be here. Somewhere in the back of Greg’s mind, he reminded himself he had an appointment to find a flat of his own, but he dismissed the thought. Missed appointments could always be rescheduled. He hoped the man he once knew was still behind that door and “I don’t ever want to talk to you again,” didn’t mean “I’m moving out of the country.”

Greg knocked on the door twice, two short raps in the place he’d come accustomed to knocking every time he’d visited. His posture shifted as he attempted to straighten himself and look as if he wasn’t four months divorced, living on his co-worker’s sofa and spending nearly 15 hours a day at the Yard.

A voice called out from inside the flat. _His_ voice. “Can you get the door, babe? I’m busy.” There was some muffled reply. Greg’s heart leaped into his throat as the door swung open with a creak that hadn’t been there six odd years ago. He peered up at the man who had opened the door.

“Who the hell are you?” The man looked at him with barely-concealed contempt. His jet-black hair was perfectly smooth, his outfit sharp, screaming designer from the well-cut trousers to the finely-pressed shirt.

The voice called from inside the flat again. “Who is it, Jim?”

The man called back over his shoulder, “Fuck if I know. Some grey-haired guy. He’s just kinda standing here looking lost.” 

Greg stared up at the man in front of him. He’d thought of a million possibilities of what had happened to that second voice, the one he recognized even in the distance, but a new relationship had been far down on the list. The voice was deeper than he remembered - apparently only Greg had quit smoking since they’d parted ways - but it was still familiar. He’d heard it so many times, calling to him, laughing with him, even whispering endearments into his ear and it pulled at his heart. Mustering up all the authority worthy of a Detective Inspector, Greg addressed the sharply dressed man at the door. “I’m looking for Sebastian Moran,” he said, training his eyes on the man’s forehead.

The man rolled his eyes. “Sebastian! Says he’s here to see you.”

“Be right there, babe!” There were muffled sounds of a chair scraping across the wooden floor, followed by footsteps getting closer. Then there were hands snaking around the strange man’s hips... very familiar hands. Sebastian appeared behind the man in the doorway, pressing a kiss to the strange neck. He looked up, suddenly seeing who it was that had come knocking on their door. He froze. “You...”

Jim scoffed. “You know this guy?” he asked, gesturing dismissively in Greg’s vicinity.

“I did...” Sebastian said softly into Jim’s hair. His eyes were hard as they locked onto Greg’s. “What are you doing here?”

Greg glared at the hands around the man... no, Jim’s waist before he turned to face Sebastian. He looked angry, confused... unsure. Greg cleared his throat. “I’m here to see you.”

Sebastian turned to Jim, sliding his arms away a bit reluctantly. “Give us a minute, yeah babe?”

Jim’s eyes darted from Sebastian, to Greg, back to Sebastian. “Whatever. I’ll be in the kitchen.” And, keeping his eyes locked on Greg’s, Jim planted a very deliberate and longer-than-strictly-necessary kiss to Sebastian’s lips, then turned and left.

Sebastian stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. “Seriously, Greg. What the hell? It’s been what... six years?”

“Five years, seven months to be exact.” Greg smiled in that tired way that tugged at the edges of his mouth slightly.

“Guess it just seems longer,” Sebastian said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can’t say I disagree,” Greg paused. He’d often wondered what it would be like seeing Sebastian again, but he’d never really thought about what he’d say. “How’s it been?”

“It’s... well yeah, it’s been good. I mean, for a while there it... But it’s good now. That was Jim, by the way,” Sebastian said, gesturing towards the flat. “He’s... we’ve been together for a couple years now.” Sebastian shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “Look, do you wanna go grab a coffee or something? I feel like this isn’t exactly a conversation for my doorstep...”

Gregory felt his heart drop as if he’d just gone over the edge of a roller coaster. He’d hoped... well, that wasn’t true, he wasn’t sure what he’d hoped but it certainly wasn’t pleasant to hear that your ex had so thoroughly moved on when you still... hadn’t. He supposed a part of him had always wished they’d reconcile. “Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Is that place with the weird Swedish name still around here?”

Sebastian smiled weakly. “Yeah, still as pretentious as ever. But they make a good cuppa.”

“Shall we?” Gregory stepped back from the door and tried to avoid the insane urge to hold out his hand towards Sebastian.

“Yeah, just give me a second...” Sebastian fished his mobile from his pocket and tapped away at the screen, sending a text message apparently. Message sent, he nodded at Greg and started walking.

Greg followed Sebastian down the stairs from the door, watching the form he’d gotten used to during their two years together. Sebastian was dressing much more fashionably these days, undoubtedly an influence of that man in the designer outfit. His trousers were cut noticeably tighter than they used to be and Greg quickly shook his head. Sebastian was with someone else, he could not be checking out his arse. Sighing, Greg hurried to walk beside Sebastian as they made their way towards the cafe.

\-------

Greg listened as Sebastian gave his order to the barista with a smile - chai latte, soy. That was certainly different from the straight earl grey he used to take. The woman behind the counter arched her eyebrows slightly when she saw the strange man behind Sebastian, but didn’t say anything. Greg ordered a black coffee, a habit from working too long at the yard,.Taking the warm paper cup in his hands in exchange for a few coins, he looked over at their usual table, taken by a young couple who were too busy staring at each other to drink their rapidly cooling teas.

Sebastian pulled a chair up next to a table by the window and sat down, blowing softly on the fancy latte in his mug. “So,” he started, lamely.

Greg moved to the seat across from him and watched the curling smoke coming from his cup, “So,” he repeated, unsure where to go from here.

Sebastian coughed slightly. “Um. Well. How have you been?”

“Not that great, to be honest. Wife and I broke up...” he paused to think for a moment, “4 months ago. She got our son, I go visit when I can though. I’m living with Anderson, ‘member him?”Greg took a small sip of the coffee, grimacing at the slight burning sensation. 

“You have a son?” Sebastian’s expression was hard to read. “Wow. That’s... I mean congrats. That’s what you wanted, right?” Greg cringed and Sebastian quickly apologized. “Sorry, that came out wrong...”

“Yeah, well, I guess it was only partially what I wanted,” Greg turned away to stare at the door of the cafe, not wanting to meet Sebastian’s eyes. “His name is Michael , he’ll be four soon”

Sebastian fidgeted awkwardly, running a hand through close-cropped hair. After a few silent moments and sips of his tea, he finally got around to asking the question that was on his mind. “So why the sudden turn up on my doorstep? I mean, fuck, Greg. It’s a little unexpected.”

“I honestly don’t know,” Greg admitted, taking another sip of his coffee. “I guess it was the divorce. Made me realize I felt bad about the break up. “ He watched Sebastian for a moment, realizing how that last comment might be taken, “Our break up, that is.”

Sebastian stared pointedly into his mug. “Do you really want to have this conversation, Greg? It’s been six years. You couldn’t have this conversation then, what makes you think we should have it now?”

Greg scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not over us? Maybe I still care about you?” Too many noise disturbance cases as a junior cop kept him from outright yelling, but his voice still rose as he spoke. “Maybe I don’t exactly feel good about how it ended.”

“You don’t feel good about how it ended?” Sebastian just laughed, a soft humorless chuckle. “You have no _fucking_ idea what I went through, do you?” Sebastian finally brought his eyes up to lock on Greg’s. They were hard and cold, so very unlike the eyes that had once looked at him with love. “You destroyed me. You left me, left me for _her_ because _she_ could give you what _I_ apparently couldn’t.” Sebastian took a deep breath, Greg recognized the calming breathing techniques they’d been taught all those years ago on the force. After a long draught from his mug, Sebastian continued. “And I still loved you, for years afterward. If it wasn’t for Jim...”

Greg cut him off, and his voice was strained. “I was selfish, I know.” Sebastian was right, this was not an easy conversation to be having. “But I never imagined my life without a family, and I thought that meant the textbook family - husband, wife, kids... I realize now that makes no sense. It wasn’t a happy marriage. _We_ were happy, Sebastian.” He stopped and waited. The minutes dragged on in awkward silence. _Just say something, Sebastian. Anything, give me a reaction..._ Greg watched him nervously.

“I’m not the man you knew, Greg. I’ve changed,” Sebastian said at last, shoulders bristling slightly. He didn’t look up from his mug. There was a buzzing sound and Sebastian pulled his mobile out to read the text he’d just received. A little smile slid onto his face as he sent a reply.

Greg was momentarily distracted, “What was that?”

“Sorry, Jim wanted to know where I was with a Detective Inspector of the Yard.” He looked up at Greg at last and his eyes had at least lost a bit of their hard edge. “Detective Inspector. Congratulations on whenever you got the promotion.”

“Thanks. Got it 3 months ago, guess they decided that since I was no longer responsible for a four year old, I could pull some extra hours.” Greg set his cup on the table, confusion showing on his face. “But how did Jim know...”’

“He has... connections. And he knows about my past with you, after all. What I went through.” Greg’s cheeks flushed a little at that, ashamed. Sebastian sighed. “What he had to help me through. Not unreasonable to think he might check up on you.”

It still made Greg a bit uneasy, to be honest. Something about that dark-eyed man had him feeling a bit defensive. He attempted a smile as he spoke again, though. “I suppose when one deals with Sherlock Holmes, one learns to accept that one’s life is no longer private.” Greg ran a finger around the rim of his cup. “How long? You and Jim?” He really didn’t want to ask that, but still.

Sebastian’s mobile buzzed again, and he sent a shorter text in reply. “Hmm? Oh, I guess... well we just kinda drifted together so I can’t really put a date on it, but that’s how it goes. Jim decides he wants something and it happens... I’ve known him for a quite a while though.” Sebastian danced around the question. “But anyway. So you’re staying with Anderson? That must be tedious.”

Gregory tilted his head slightly at the sudden change in conversation, but he decided not to press the matter. “It’s okay mostly, but he’s a complete neat freak. I left a sock on his sofa yesterday and I thought he was going to have a panic attack when he saw it.”

“God, I know the feeling. Jim can get so particular about our flat, especially when it comes to his closet... The man loves his suits.” Sebastian’s smile was warm and easy now (just like it used to be back when they were together) as he was speaking about his... boyfriend? husband? lover? Greg really didn’t want to think about that too much.

“Guess I was a bit more manageable in that respect? We never did manage to keep house.”

Sebastian grinned at the recollection. “Yeah, we were both a bloody mess and you never did manage to explain exactly how you always seemed to lose your keys _in_ my refrigerator.” They both smiled a moment, some of the tension dissipating, but then Sebastian was averting his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t, especially after what you put me through, but I’ve...” He sighed. “I’ve missed you, Greg.”

“Would it be any better if I told you I missed you too? And that a part of me always regretted my decision?” Greg finished the last drops of his coffee and with a practiced swing, tossed the cup into the rubbish bin nearby.

“I wouldn’t say that makes it better,” Sebastian said, mostly to himself. He looked back up at Greg. “I am with Jim now, Greg. I’m happy, we’re happy, we’re right for each other. But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see if you and I could be friends again. Like it started out.”

“We only knew each other a month before we started dating,” Gregory reminded him.

“Well, we were both single at the time.” Sebastian shrugged. “I doubt we would have gotten together at all if it wasn’t for that Halloween party at the Yard...”

“You did make a sexy wolf,” Greg grinned at the memory. Sebastian had been wearing a grey outfit, side burns and ears. The whole thing had been ridiculous, but it was one of the better costumes. “I wish I’d been Little Red Riding Hood instead of a superhero.”

“I thought you made a very dashing Batman.” Sebastian finished his latte, licking the foam from his upper lip. He got up momentarily to set the dirty mug in the collection tray above the trash can. His mobile buzzed yet again, and he looked at the screen in confusion. He sent out a rushed text and sat down across from Greg again.

“Thanks,” Greg frowned at the fact that Sebastian seemed to miss the comment’s intended innuendo entirely. Either that or he was deliberately ignoring it. “What’s up?” he asked, gesturing towards the phone.

Still staring at the mobile screen with a furrowed brow, Sebastian answered. “Jim says if you need a place to stay, you can have the guest bedroom...”

Gregory looked puzzled for a moment. “I wouldn’t want to impose on your little love nest.” The end of the sentence came out surprisingly bitter.

“Well it was just his suggestion, you don’t have to,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “He thought you might prefer a bed to your current position on Anderson’s couch...”

Oh, and so Jim knew he was sleeping on Anderson’s couch too? What _didn’t_ the man know? “Well I _am_ in the process of looking for a flat, so I suppose I wouldn’t be staying long.” Greg thought for a moment. It was odd living with Anderson, and it would be cheaper on a three way rent share. “As long as you’re ok with me paying rent.” Greg knew it would be awkward in that sort of living situation, but even still he missed his relationship with Sebastian, even the non-romantic, nonsexual bits.

“If you feel you need to, Jim owns the building so you wouldn’t really be putting us out.”

“Then I can do some odd chores around the place, earn my keep and all.” Feeling satisfied with this agreement, Greg stood.

“Fair enough.” Sebastian was typing rapid fire on his mobile, back and forth a few times with a small frown at the last text. He shook his head and cleared the look away from his face before turning back to Greg. “He says it’s free whenever you want it.”

“Well, I guess I can move in this weekend, if that works,” Greg did a quick check he had his wallet and drew out his phone. He needed to call and explain why he missed the flat showing.

“Yeah. Good,” Sebastian stood and pushed the chair back under the table.

Greg shuffled his feet a bit, unsure. “I suppose I’ll see you then, Seven.” He paused at the accidental slip of his nickname for Sebastian. “I mean, Sebastian.”

Sebastian looked pained at the sudden use of his old pet name. He gripped his mobile phone tighter. “Right, Saturday, then?” Greg nodded and Sebastian continued. “Okay. Well, I’d better get back to the flat. I’ve got a job... thing... tonight and Jim needs to see me before I go.”

“Still pulling long hours?” Greg asked as he turned around Sebastian to reach the door.

“Something like that,” Sebastian answered, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Right,” Greg wanted to talk some more, but his mind and heart were already swimming. Yanking the door handle open, he shot Sebastian one more look. “Thanks for the company, and thank Jim for the offer would you?”

Sebastian nodded, “I will.”

Greg shot Sebastian one more look that could be described almost as longing. “Bye,” he muttered as he shoved through the door and hurried away into the autumn chill.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg moves in and Jim says "hello."

Saturday rolled around faster than Greg had imagined possible and soon he found himself kneeling on the floor of the guest room in Sebastian’s flat. The floor was carpeted a light brown, a nice compliment to the darker walls and stained wood trim. Honestly, the room would have felt comfortable and homely if it weren’t for the fact that his ex was now snogging a new man a few doors away. Well, not _literally_ right now. Sebastian was off running a few errands, but still.

Greg shook the image from his mind as he folded the last of his pants into the bottom door of the dresser and pushed himself to his feet. It hadn’t taken long - it wasn’t even time for lunch yet. He did a slow walk of the room before lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed and pushing his hair back with his fingers. Why was he even here? The smart thing would have been to remain on Anderson’s couch and consider this chapter of his life - this bit with him and Sebastian - over and done with. But something about it felt like a cold case; he was plagued by a nagging need in the back of his mind – a need to revisit what had gone on between them. There was that feeling that he’d missed something the first go around. Perhaps this time, he could close this case fully.

He was suddenly aware of a shadow across the floor. Looking up, he saw Jim blocking the light from the hallway, standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom, hands in the pockets of his slim fit jeans. The man was simply watching him, dark chestnut eyes scrutinizing Greg as he sat on the side of the guest bed. Picking him apart. His head swayed in a vaguely snake-like manor, like a cobra biding its time and looking for the moment to strike. That mental image did nothing to ease Greg’s rising apprehension.

Greg almost glared at the shorter man before he caught himself and forced a smile. Jim had offered up his home to him after all, it wouldn’t do to be hostile about the situation. “Thanks again for the room, Jim,” he offered, trying to remain polite.

Jim was silent still, stretching the awkward moment out. Waiting to answer until Greg was practically squirming under his gaze. “Well, y’know. Any friend of Sebastian’s...” he said in a bored drawl, eyes never leaving Greg. There was an odd gleam to them.

“Still,” Greg stood, trying to even out the space between them and, if he was being completely honest, engaging his slight height advantage. “It must be a bit awkward having me here, so it’s nice of you and all.”

Jim grinned, a predatory expression. The snake comparison came to mind again. “Awkward? No no, I wouldn’t say awkward. Not for me. Maybe for ‘Bastian, perhaps.” He purred the pet name.

“Uh...” Greg felt a bit lost; no one had ever covered how to deal with this particular scenario. “Greg Lestrade,” he said finally, holding out his hand, “I know Sebastian told you my name already, and well, from what I can tell you know pretty much everything about me, but I guess I should properly introduce myself anyway.”

Jim crossed the room in two fluid steps, taking Greg’s hand. “Jim Moriarty. Pleased to properly meet you, Detective Inspector.” Jim didn’t drop Greg’s hand right away, instead bringing it up to eye level, inspecting and caressing it slightly.

Greg’s breath hitched slightly at the action and the feeling of the smaller hand in his. The grip was light, yet oddly constricting.  It remind him almost of his ex-wife’s grip, but more unnerving. He quickly drew his hand back to his side with a frown, which only caused Jim’s grin to widen. “I’m guessing Sebastian told you that he and I used to date,” Greg said, figuring that mentioning it openly now would avoid later awkwardness. Although judging by the current situation, avoiding awkward moments with Jim Moriarty wasn’t going to be easy.

Jim shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, I knew that already, Greggy.” His eyes grew cold. “I’ve known our Sebastian for quite some time,” he added quietly.

“Yeah, well,” Greg’s lip curled, suddenly angry, “he’s definitely changed in the past 6 or so years.”

“What can I say,” Jim said as he took a step forward to put himself well within Greg’s comfort zone, “I tend to have an effect on people.”

Greg took a small step back before checking himself; he shouldn’t be intimidated by a man who would probably go flying at a strong gust of wind. “Sebastian would only change if he wanted to,” Greg maintained.

A small chuckle escaped from Jim’s throat, though there was no humor behind it. “If that’s what you need to believe, Inspector...” He scrutinized Greg for a few minutes more before abruptly turning on his heels and – there was no other word for it – sauntering out of the room. “Dear Sebastian should be home soon,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Dinner’s at seven.”

Greg frowned, poking his head in to the hall as Jim left. “I’m afraid I won’t be joining you, probably be a late night at the Yard.” That was as good an excuse as any. He did have quite a bit of paperwork to catch up on and Jim made him feel more than a little uneasy. He was like a child with a plaything…

And children could be so cruel.

\-----

Three weeks later, Greg sat at his desk, hands wound around a burning hot cuppa. The “out” bin for finished case work was pretty much full, at least fuller than it had been in months. Since moving in with Sebastian and Jim he’d been more productive than ever. He was spending most of his time at the Yard lately which accounted for the increase in his work productivity, but it was just a side effect of what he was really doing – avoiding Jim. Greg knew he could have spent the time visiting Michael as well, but that always brought about uncomfortable questions. The last time he’d went to see him, the Sunday after the move, Michael had asked to see his dad’s new flat. As much as he wanted to, Greg knew he couldn’t bring him around. Nothing against Sebastian - he’d be great with the boy - and Greg was sure he wouldn’t mention their past relationship.

No, that wasn’t what had Greg hesitating. The main reason was what it would do to Sebastian. It would be incredibly unfair to parade the main reason for their breakup right in front of him. Secondly, Jim worried him. Something about Jim felt off, and he certainly did not seem like the kind of guy you brought your son around. Greg had a list of people he would never introduce Michael to, up to that point consisting mainly of Sherlock, but now the consulting detective shared that honor with a short, dark-eyed, designer-clothes-wearing man.

Three weeks living with the duo and he was fully convinced Jim’s eyes were black. Every time they were in the same room, he could practically feel those eyes on him. It was like something was crawling up and through his spine, tiny tendrils spiking their way between his vertebrae. Even now when he thought about it, he shivered slightly. Though any awkwardness that Greg felt did not seem to affect Jim, a man who was obviously used to being master of his own little universe.

Greg did his best to avoid Jim, and this bled over to conversation as well. He never spoke to Jim unless he absolutely had to, and never mentioned Jim to Sebastian. He didn’t even bring up that strange first conversation with Jim in his bedroom.

Sebastian on the other hand seemed to be making up plenty for his boyfriend’s lack of sense when things became awkward. He and Greg moved around each other with averted eyes and mumbled apologies, especially the first week Greg was there. Eventually though, things started to slip into a sort of routine. When Jim wasn’t there, especially, it was almost like returning to the more domestic aspects of Greg and Sebastian’s relationship. Greg made the morning coffee, Sebastian made breakfast. Football was always watched in silence unless your team scored. Their towels even occupied the same sides of the drying bar as they had all those years ago.

And then there was the food. Sebastian always had been an excellent cook and he’d only gotten better in the time they’d been apart. He ensured Greg had a full plate whenever he was around to eat – gone were the days of Pot Noodle dinners and stale donut breakfasts. Greg was sure he’d put on a few pounds since the move, but hard work hopefully kept him from gaining too much.

Once or twice, Greg slipped up and called Sebastian by his old pet name – Seven – and they would both pause. Greg would mutter apology and they would start acting like strangers again, realizing they’d gotten a bit too comfortable. Once, about a week and a half into Greg’s time there, when Jim had been gone overnight on business, Sebastian had accidentally called him “Grey” and Greg’s heart had jumped at the use of his old nickname. Sebastian had looked absolutely mortified, hastily announcing he had somewhere to be. He’d not returned until the next morning, pretending the slip had never happened.

At any rate, what little hope Greg had harboured of resuming his romantic relationship with Sebastian melted away when he saw how happy Sebastian was with Jim. Sometimes, when Greg worked all night, or more accurately chased Sherlock around London all bloody night, he came back to see Sebastian pulling his collar up to hide a small set of hickeys and something that might possibly have been a bite mark on the back of his neck, and Greg sighed. He didn’t think Sebastian noticed the little glances he sent in Jim’s direction when he thought neither of the other men were looking, but Greg could see how much he cared. He knew that look. The way Sebastian’s eyes widened just slightly as if he couldn’t believe he really was lucky enough to be with the man he saw.

It hurt because Greg could still remember when that look was directed at him.

As for Jim and Sebastian’s work, whatever seemed to be supplying their large income certainly pulled strange hours. They could be found huddled together in something more akin to a sports huddle than anything romantic, apparently discussing the “business.” Greg had asked several times what “business” was, but they both avoided directly answering the question and he soon gave up. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought something illicit was going on. Seated in his office now, sipping the cooling coffee he smiled briefly. That would be a laugh. A Detective Inspector of  New Scotland Yard, living with criminals. Not that too many people were aware of his current living situation though. Anderson knew he was living with an ex and Sherlock had all but figured it out, but Greg refused to mention Jim to either of them. Therefore in his own way, he was able to ignore Jim’s existence all together.

But he wouldn’t be able to ignore him much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love and cuddles to Hannah_Baker for beta awesomeness <3 ,#
> 
> Stay tuned, Chapter 3's a big one!


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later, Greg came back to the flat after another long day of paperwork and was greeted by the scent of cooking and the sound of laughter – Sebastian’s gruff chuckle mixed with Jim’s high-pitched snicker. Sighing, he eased the door closed. A short walk down the entrance hallway, he gave a quick nod to the couple in the kitchen as he passed before heading to his room to change out of his work clothes. Returning in a slightly creased button up shirt and pair of faded blue jeans, he took a seat on one of the modern stools at the breakfast bar and watched the controlled chaos in front of him.

Sebastian had always kicked him out of the kitchen while cooking, but he seemed to be just fine with Jim’s presence right now. Jim was at the stove, stirring something in a large metal pot, humming to himself as he added a pinch of salt here, a few carrots there. Sebastian was behind him, chopping onions on the island counter. He turned to add them to a skillet of butter, and then sidled up behind his lover, sliding his arms along his hips. Jim leaned back into him and Sebastian pressed a kiss into Jim’s dark hair. They both seemed to notice Greg at the same time. Jim grinned and made a show of running his hand up one of Sebastian’s arms. Sebastian himself pulled back and set about cleaning the chicken breasts on the counter. “How was the Yard?” he asked as he expertly ran a knife under the skin of the meat.

Greg ignored the romantic display the best he could and focused on the knife in Sebastian’s hands. “Nothing particularly exciting. Though Sherlock managed to _not_ piss Anderson off,” he chuckled softly. “So thank god for small miracles.”

“Mmm, Sherlock Holmes does tend to have a way of interfering, doesn’t he?” Jim said as he raised the wooden spoon to test the soup. Sebastian shot him a look before going back to his chicken.

Greg was about to agree with Jim, a rare occurrence, when there was the sound of someone knocking at their door, barely audible over the bubbling pot. “It’s a Monday night, who could that be?” Greg mused, not really directing the question at anyone in particular.

Jim’s eyes narrowed and Greg noticed that Sebastian’s arms tensed slightly. “No one has this address,” Jim said quietly, almost to himself. He glanced at Sebastian.

“Probably just a solicitor or something,” Sebastian murmured. “Wants us to buy cookies or encyclopedias or y’know...”

“I might as well get it,” Greg said as he pushed himself off the chair before Sebastian could protest, glad for the opportunity to escape the domestic scene in the kitchen. He walked down the hall to the front door and opened it to reveal a man dressed in a finely cut suit. Probably not selling cookies then. The man stood straight as a pole, looking ahead with confidence that would put most public figures to shame. His face at first glance gave no emotion but Greg noticed an odd little turn at the side of his mouth, almost as if the man was uneasy with knocking on the door and intruding what was likely dinner time in the household. After a moment of silence, Greg gave up on the visitor speaking first. “Can I help you?”

“Detective Inspector, I must say this is a surprise.” The man’s voice was crisp, but not impolite. It sounded vaguely familiar even. He lowered his head slightly to look at Greg more evenly, the light from the evening sun shining as it hit the copper tones of his hair.

“You’re,” Greg paused, searching for the name at the tip of his tongue. Without the distinctive crackle of his office phone, it was hard to place exactly where he’d heard the voice before. “Damn, I know this.”

The man raised one hand for Greg’s silence, his long fingers held straight. “Mycroft Holmes. I believe you are more familiar with my brother, Sherlock,” he said, though the clarification on his family was unnecessary. Mycroft had called Greg once or twice before, purely for a brief conversation on whether Sherlock had managed to drive the Met mad yet. It had been a while since they’d last spoken.

“How can I help you, Mr. Holmes?” Greg asked, subconsciously matching Mycroft’s formal tone.

“I am here to see Mr. Moriarty, is he in?”

Greg nodded, turning his head down the hall to call towards the kitchen. “Hey Jim! Mycroft Holmes here to see you,” he half shouted, the first time he’d spoken to Jim without first being spoken _to_ since the day he’d moved in.

There was the sound of a knife clattering to the countertop and the hiss of a hushed argument. Then Jim’s voice called back in that peculiar sing-song lilt that Greg hadn’t heard since their first conversation. “Oh, by all means, do let the man inside. It’s so nice of him to barge in on our dinner time uninvited.”

With a roll of his eyes, Greg pulled the door open further. “Well, you heard him. Come on in, Mr. Holmes.” Greg stepped back to allow him entry.

“Mycroft, please,” he said with a polite smile as he set his umbrella against the wall in the hallway. Greg nodded, and leaned past Mycroft to shut the door, bringing him  into the other man’s personal space. Mycroft smelled lightly of ink and expensive cigar smoke. In Greg’s mind, Mycroft wore his suit much better than Jim wore his.  Locking the door, Greg started off down the hall with the sound of Mycroft’s fancy shoes stepping lightly behind.

Reaching the kitchen, Greg could feel a tension in the air that hadn’t been there when he’d left. “There’s Jim,” Greg murmured, quickly realizing how stupid of a thing it was to say, since if Jim and Mycroft knew each other, they’d probably be able to recognize each other as well. He took up his seat on the stool again. Mycroft stood near him, looking into the kitchen, his head turned just barely to the side.

Jim was eyeing the newcomer like a shark circling its prey, a slight curl on his lips. Sebastian had his back to everyone, busying himself with the chicken on the stove, but Greg could tell his shoulders were stiff. Something was going on here.

“Apologies for the intrusion. I came to discuss,” he shot a glance at Greg, “…business,” he finished smoothly. Greg’s eyebrows arched slightly. The infamous _business_.

“I regret to inform you that business hours are over,” Jim replied, and there was no mistaking threatening tone in his voice.

Sebastian turned to set the cooked chicken on the counter and Greg was surprised by the hardened look in his eyes. He’d never seen Sebastian like this. He stood behind Jim, but there was nothing of the romantic playfulness left in his stance.

Greg’s eyes swiveled to Mycroft and noticed an equal stiffness in his posture. “I’m afraid I must speak with you, Mr. Moriarty,” Mycroft responded, but his easy confidence was gone and he seemed to be concentrating on something Greg could not see.

“And I’m afraid you’re mistaking that as a suggestion, Mr. Holmes.” Jim glared, almost as if he was daring Mycroft to challenge him.

“As you refuse to come in on my terms, I have been forced to come here at,” Mycroft glanced at meal in the kitchen, “what appears to be a less then convenient hour.”

Jim simply stood there for a moment or two, his head slowly oscillating in an unnerving manner. Sebastian was glancing from Mycroft to Greg and back, a worried look on his face. “Well then,” Jim said after a long moment, low and dangerous. “Won’t you join us for dinner, Mr. Holmes?”

Mycroft glanced at Greg for a moment, and Greg noticed a worried look cross both his and Sebastian’s faces. “I suppose it would be impolite to refuse the invitation,” he said, turning his eyes back to Jim.

Jim’s demeanor changed completely, an unsettling grin spreading across his face. “Oh, now won’t this be fun,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Come now, Bastian. Add another plate to the table, chop chop.” Sebastian warily made his way to the cupboard and pulled out another plate, shooting an uneasy glance at Jim. He whispered something in Jim’s ear as he passed which just had Jim shaking his head slightly.

Mycroft stood where he was, glancing at the table as if waiting for something. Greg turned and approached the seat he always sat in, the one closer to Sebastian and as far as he could get from Jim. He looked over at Mycroft and realized what he was waiting for. Mycroft may have barged into their dinner, but he was still polite enough to await a formal invitation to sit. Greg pushed the seat closest to his back with his foot, wincing at the loud scraping of the legs on the floor. “You’re welcome to sit,” he said.

Mycroft gave him a small smile and nodded as he sat. “Thank you, Detective Inspector.” He was quick to realign his utensils into their proper positions before turning towards the kitchen. “Mr. Moriarty, you may come in tomorrow if that would better suit you.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to be any more available tomorrow than I am tonight, _Mr. Holmes,_ ” he said with a playful spin of the wooden spoon he was still holding in one hand.

Sebastian was glancing from Jim to Mycroft to Greg and back to Jim. He stood as if poised for action, and there was something not unlike fear in his eyes. Greg had seen that look before. The times they’d been in a bar when a fight broke out, the times people had shouted insults at them for holding hands in public and that one time Sebastian had clocked a guy on the tube for being a bit too handsy while standing behind Greg. It was a sort of protective look, the kind someone got before they threw themselves in between a speeding bullet and a loved one.

Mycroft coughed slightly, looking directly at Jim. “I was hoping to avoid further intrusions into your domestic life.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure. Though you’ve apparently underestimated the consequences of _this_ intrusion.” There was that shark-like smile again, and Jim was making his way to the table with a plateful of chicken. “Get the soup, Moran,” he called over his shoulder to Sebastian. It sounded like an order.

“Yes, sir.” Sir? Maybe it _was_ an order. Of course, Greg had heard Sebastian call Jim _sir_ before, enough times to realize it wasn’t a pet name but something _business_ related. He couldn’t help but be slightly fascinated. _Business_ had been, until this point, kept as far away from him as possible. Suddenly it was playing out like a theater drama in the dining room. All the same, he hated hearing Sebastian call Jim _sir_. It made him sound like a wild animal that had been tamed and put on a leash. Sebastian was standing in a stance that echoed a military style and he hardly resembled someone about to eat a meal in his own home.

Mycroft’s eyes followed Jim as he came to the table, his response detached and cold. “I have acted as was necessary.”

“Yes, you always do manage to do just that, don’t you?” Jim slipped into his usual seat, nodding to Sebastian to sit as well.

“My position requires nothing less.” Mycroft’s answer was still cold, but Greg detected a layer of humor underneath it, the barest hint of a smile that might have shown in better company. Mycroft turned his eyes to Greg as if he could feel his gaze and looked at him for a moment before resuming his observation of Jim. The look was long enough for Greg to feel a bit self conscious, and he hoped he wasn’t blushing _too_ much.

Suddenly looking at Sebastian seemed like a better idea.  Greg reached sideways and pushed Sebastian’s fork closer to his plate, “You okay?”

Sebastian glanced at Greg with distant eyes. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” he said with a wave of his hand. Jim and Mycroft were just sort of glaring at each other now, Jim serving the chicken onto everyone’s plates.

Greg’s eyebrows pulled in worriedly. He moved his seat quietly closer to Sebastian, ignoring the weird tense staring going on near them. “Sure?” he asked, giving Jim a distracted nod to thank him for the food.

“I’m sure, Greg.” Sebastian held his gaze, there was something else there now - sadness? Regret?

Greg was about to pursue the subject when Mycroft spoke again. “Detective Inspector, I wasn’t aware you’d moved out of your coworker’s flat.”

Greg turned to Mycroft for a moment, meaning to look him in the eye, but couldn’t hold the stare. He watched Mycroft’s slightly angular cheek bones as he answered. “Well, yeah, I know Seb from... well from work a while back. Seemed like a good arrangement.”

Mycroft nodded as if satisfied and returned to looking at Jim. He cut his food without watching as he addressed Jim. “I am here to discuss certain ‘business’ activities you have been undertaking.”

“Come now, Mycroft. Is that really something to be discussing in front of the commonwealth?” He asked, indicating both Greg and Sebastian with his fork.

“I have reason to believe your partner is fully aware of the sort of ‘business’ you undertake,” Mycroft frowned, taking a small bite of the chicken. His gaze caught on Greg with a small shift of his eyes. He looked concerned.

Jim coughed slightly. “Yes, though Sebastian is on a strictly need-to-know basis. As are _you_ ,” he said, arching his eyebrows at Mycroft before taking a bite of chicken with a snap of teeth.

“Well,” Mycroft set down his fork with a small click, “I believe it would be in your best interest to include me in that need-to-know category.”

“Oh, it is funny when you try to sound threatening, dearest.” Jim’s voice had suddenly lost the lightness that had been behind it up to this point. It sounded dangerous. Sebastian tensed in his seat, gripping his fork a bit tighter than necessary as he chewed on a bite of chicken.

Greg felt a small twist in his gut. Jim only ever used diminutives like “dearest” when he was angry – he’d heard an argument or two over the phone and with Sebastian. His back instinctively straightened and his police training kicked in. _When dealing with a hostile situation..._ the phrases ran through his head as he tensed. To his side, he could see Sebastian had gripped his steak knife beneath the table in a way that did not suggest he was about to cut his chicken and that did nothing to dissipate Greg’s growing apprehension. It may have been years since they’d gone into danger together, but he could still read Sebastian’s body language. Greg paid attention for small changes in Sebastian’s posture that would indicate there might be violence.

Mycroft placed his knife down with a sigh, as if finished with his meal despite the half filled plate. “You know what I am capable of Mr. Moriarty, and I am well aware of your abilities as well. If you decide to relinquish control of the _business_ matters we disagree upon, as well as any interest in certain people I feel require my protection, I will leave you alone.” Mycroft’s response was cordial but vague. Greg felt utterly lost on what was going on, but he relaxed slightly. Past experience told him he should follow Sebastian’s lead, but something about the way Mycroft spoke and acted relieved his worries of having to break up a fight.

“I think we’re done here,” Jim said, a note of finality in his voice. He set his own fork down as well. Sebastian was still on edge.

Mycroft agreed and gently moved his chair back with hardly a sound. He pulled himself to his feet and turned to address the policeman. “Detective Inspector, if you wouldn’t mind walking me to my car, I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

Greg stared down at his meal, barely touched, glanced at Sebastian, still nervous, and then settled his sight on Mycroft. Somehow, walking the government official to his car seemed a lot better than dealing with dinner right now, though he’d been starved when he got home. “Sure,” he agreed, easing himself from his chair and stepping around the table.

Mycroft nodded and then turned his attention to Jim and Sebastian. “As much as the conversation was not favorable, I did enjoy the meal. I hope to be hearing from you shortly, Mr. Moriarty. I am positive we should be able to come to an agreement.” He also made a separate good bye to Sebastian, an apology for intruding as well, before turning in the direction of the front door. Sebastian nodded his head at Mycroft’s apology, apparently unsure how to respond. He flicked his eyes to Jim who was simply staring at the man in the suit with a slight frown.

Greg watched the duo for a moment longer, a slight curl of unease building in his stomach. He was glad to be getting out of there for the moment. He headed for the door, only pausing to insure Mycroft was in fact following him. He passed Mycroft his umbrella and grabbed the keys from beside the door. With a shout back into the flat, he told Sebastian and Jim he’d be back in a flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Hannah_Baker for her continued beta-fu <3 ,#


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft took the lead as they went down the stairs into the lamp lit street. It was cool outside, and Greg regretted not grabbing his jacket, especially if Mycroft intended to have more than a brief chat. As they descended, Greg found himself giving Mycroft’s arse a quick glance before he chastised himself. Still, those suit trousers did fit nicely… They’d reached the sidewalk and were now standing next to a black car – a Ford Mondeo, from the looks of it. A very fancy Mondeo, but a Mondeo nonetheless. A car that would easily blend into a crowd. The silhouette of a suited driver was barely visible through the tinted windows.

“Inspector Lestrade,” Mycroft said, turning to face the DI. “I wanted to inform you of an acquaintance of mine who owns several flats in London. One is available and ready for occupation, and I can assure you the rent is well within your price range.”

Greg’s eyebrows arched, he had expected Mycroft to say something more along the lines of _don’t tell anyone what you heard here tonight or else_. “I just moved in two weeks ago,” he replied, a little surprised. “Can’t say I was really looking forward to another move so soon.” This was a tiny lie, he’d actually been hoping to find a place of his own sooner rather than later, but he hated proving the Holmes brothers right all the time.

“The flat in question is quite near a tube station, and there is a rather well-kept park nearby,” Mycroft continued, looking down at the sidewalk and swinging his umbrella slightly.

“You seem pretty keen on my moving out,” Greg said, a little harsher than he intended. He couldn’t help it – he was frustrated. Frustrated with the way Jim was treating Sebastian, frustrated that he’d been the odd one out at dinner, frustrated he’d lost Sebastian in the first place and definitely frustrated that the man who’d only ever spoken to him in order to check up on Sherlock had apparently found the perfect flat for him without even being asked.

Mycroft paused, obviously trying to maintain diplomacy. “You have yet to bring your son to see his father’s new home,” Mycroft said. Greg rubbed his forehead, another bloody Holmes deduction. The man continued, “I could tell from the way your things were organized in the flat. Even after a short time living somewhere, most people pick up small habits of leaving items out of their intended place. A coat over the back of a chair, a coffee cup left on the counter, keys tossed on a dresser top. But you placed your jacket on its proper hook, same for the keys. Mr. Moran and Mr. Moriarty have a few photos of their more domestic moments hung in the main room, but I will hazard a guess that you don’t even have pictures up in your own room.”

Greg bit his lip. He had, in fact, not placed his favorite picture of Michael on the bedside table, unlike when he’d lived at Anderson’s place. True, the bedside table meant the coffee table there, but there the photo had sat. At Jim and Sebastian’s place, it hadn’t even made it from his bag. He’d told himself he was still unpacking, but really, who doesn’t put their children’s photos up first.

Mycroft looked up from the sidewalk and his eyes softened at the worried expression on Greg’s face. “No father would take their child to a place they are not comfortable living themselves.” Mycroft opened the back door of the car with small click. “You have my phone number if the flat interests you, or anything else arises.” Greg nodded, shuffling his feet a bit and bidding Mycroft a good night. As the car pulled away, he sighed and turned back toward the flat.

\-----

He could hear the early throws of an argument even from outside the flat. Greg reentered quietly and worriedly ran his eyes along the hallway. Jim and Sebastian had retreated to the kitchen, apparently in the midst of a very vocal argument. “...would be obvious I didn’t invite him here.” Jim was saying, his voice ice cold as it cut through the flat.

Sebastian’s voice was harsh and strained as he answered. “But you knew it was a possibility, Jim. You knew Mycroft was on your scent. You knew he wanted to speak to you. And what about Greg, huh? What if he’s figured it out by now, huh? For fuck’s _sake_ , he’s a Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard!”

“That was the point.”

“The point? The fucking _point_?” Sebastian was full-on shouting now. “This was just to mess with me, wasn’t it? I didn’t even want him here, and you go and invite him to move into our fucking _home_. I was over him, Jim. It was in my past - fuck, you _know_ what I was like after he left.” Jim’s reply was muffled, but obviously it struck a chord with Sebastian. “Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare bring that up right now. That was part of the job, part of the reason you planted me in the Yard in the first place!”

There was the sound of smashing glass and Jim’s voice practically barked as he yelled. “ _Sebastian Moran, you will stand down this instant_. That’s an order.”

Greg was moving now, racing down the hallway towards the argument. He skated into the room, nearly falling as he stopped suddenly. “Sebastian...”

Sebastian had his back to Greg, hands curled into fists, very plainly standing at attention across from Jim. Shattered glass from a broken wine bottle sparkled around them, glinting in the lights from the kitchen. Sebastian’s voice was harsh. “Greg, this doesn’t concern you. Stay out of this.”

Greg looked down at the glass, watching the light dance between the still shaking pieces, looking for a way through. “You can’t let him treat you like this. And what’s this about you being placed in the Yard?”

Jim stood with his arms crossed, his eyes black as death itself as they trained themselves on the Detective Inspector. “I will treat him exactly as his behavior dictates. He is no longer a concern of yours.” Sebastian said nothing, standing completely still as Jim continued. “Now fuck off.”

Greg focused in on Jim, no longer afraid of looking him in the eye. He was angry. “I know I screwed up, and don’t think for a moment I don’t regret it. But you have no right to treat him, nor anyone, this way.”

“Aw, but Sebastian _likes_ when I treat him like this, don’t you my sweet?” Jim stepped up to Sebastian to run his finger along his jawline, nimbly sidestepping the broken glass. Sebastian said nothing, but didn’t flinch at the touch. “I asked you a question, dear. Answer it.” The last two words were definitely a command.

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian said, swallowing slightly.

“Yes, _what_ , Sebastian?”

“Yes, I like it, sir.” Sebastian’s voice was monotone.

Jim smiled and slapped his cheek a little more than lightly. “You see, Greggy?”

“What sort of sick game are you playing here, Jim?” Greg took a deep breath and judged the distance between himself and Jim. If he attempted to tackle him, would Sebastian protect his boyfriend? Instead, he focused his attention on his ex, “Sebastian, you don’t have to be treated this way.”

“Greg, please.” Sebastian finally turned to face Greg, which had Jim hissing in disapproval. “Just... just don’t get into this right now.” His eyes were wide. Was he afraid?

“Sebastian,” Greg moved towards him carefully, avoiding the glass. “We can leave. Anderson or Sherlock can take us for the night.” Taking a deep breath, Greg spoke his next words very slowly and carefully. “You don’t have to stay here.”

“I can’t,” Sebastian said, voice small. Jim’s arm snaked around his waist. “I can’t,” Sebastian repeated, with a bit more emphasis. Jim rested his cheek against Sebastian's arm. “I won’t,” he said finally, voice firm.

“Why? Why, Sebastian?” Greg stepped forward, leaning across the glass to place a head on Sebastian’s other arm. “You don’t have to stay. We can make it alright.”

“Greg, really, it’s okay,” Sebastian said, his hand subconsciously moving to cover Jim’s across his stomach. The tension was starting to ease from his shoulders. “Just an argument. It’s just... a difficult situation right now.”

Greg paused for a moment and then pulled his hand back tentatively, unsure. “Sebastian, I know we aren’t together anymore, but we’re still friends.” He glanced to Jim, then back to Sebastian. “You can talk to me.”

“It’s a business thing, Greg,” Sebastian said, his thumb absently stroking the back of Jim’s hand. Jim himself just smiled and kept his gaze fixed on Greg.

“Damn business!” Greg said, unable to keep his voice from rising. He stood rigid. “Jim can’t treat you this way, and what does _Mycroft Holmes_ , a government worker, have to do with business? What does _business_ have to do with you at the Met?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak but Jim beat him to it. “I think it’s past your bedtime, Inspector.”

Greg glared at him. “I’m not a fucking child, Jim. And anyway there seems to be a lot of glass between here,” he gestured at the floor, “and the guest room.”

“Well fine then. I’m going to bed,” Jim said with an overly exaggerated yawn. “Clean this up, Sebastian. We’ll continue our conversation later,” he stared pointedly at Greg. “In private.” With a nimble hop, Jim cleared the glass and meandered his way down the hall and into his bedroom.

Greg’s eyes followed Jim for a moment before turning back to Sebastian, then down to the glass splayed across the floor. He took a few deep breaths to calm down before speaking again. “Pass me the extra broom, we might as well work together on this.”

Sebastian sighed and moved to grab two brooms from the closet in the hall. Returning, he handed one to Greg. After a few moments of silent sweeping, he finally spoke. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry you have to go through it.” Greg started at random, working a path through the broken glass, focusing completely on the brown bristles of the broom pushing aside the shards.

“It’s really not as bad as it looks. Jim and I have a bit of a weird relationship. He may be my lover, but he’s also my boss. And at times, the latter overrides the former.”

“It really shouldn’t. We always managed to make it work.”

“What Jim and I do is a bit different than what we did, Gray... Greg.”

Greg paused for a heartbeat at the sound of the nickname. “And yet you won’t tell me what it is you two do.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Sebastian said with an unconvincing chuckle.

“Better be a joke, Sebastian. I know Sherlock Holmes.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything, concentrating on the smaller shards of glass now. “We should probably mop this as well, to get the little splinters.”

Greg realized that though he could pursue the subject all he wanted, Sebastian was done talking about it. After a few moments, he spoke again. “I’m going to go look at a flat tomorrow. Mycroft mentioned one that may be what I’m looking for.”

Sebastian nodded. “That’s probably for the best.” He was silent as he crossed to grab the wet mop from the closet. “I don’t think you’d be able to stay here much longer anyway. I’m sorry, Greg.” The last sentence seemed to be much more than a simple apology for the evening.

“You could come with me,” Greg muttered at the floor, pushing aside another swath of glass. It was a last ditch attempt. Something about Sebastian’s voice told him that if he moved out, he wouldn’t be coming back.

Leaning against the mop handle, Sebastian looked at Greg. He opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it and averted his eyes. “You don’t understand, Greg. I can’t. He’d never let me, let _us_... go.”

“How can you do that?” Greg asked, the anger creeping back into his voice. “How can you be in a relationship like that?”

Sebastian forced his gaze up to look Greg directly in the eyes. “I love him.” The words were concrete and heavy, obviously meant as a final end to the discussion.

Greg stopped with a huff. “People are idiots when they are in love,” he stepped closer to Sebastian, placing one hand on his shoulder. “I’m obviously not going to convince you either way, but for fuck’s sake Sebastian, if you need anything you come see me.”

“Go on to bed, Greg. I’ll finish mopping up,” Sebastian said, shrugging his hand away.

Greg frowned and walked through the path in the glass. Leaning the broom against the wall he turned his head back towards Sebastian one last time. “I may have screwed up our relationship, Sebastian, but I never stopped caring about you,” he said, still frustrated, before walking his way down the hall to his room.

\-------

Greg flipped open his phone as he landed heavily on the bed. He had one text message, unknown number, with an address and a name, signed “MH”. Figures that Mycroft would have his private cell number despite previously only having called him on the police land line. Greg placed the phone on the bedside table before wrenching his body sideways into somewhat of a sleeping position. He didn’t even bother getting changed.

It took him a while to fall asleep, staring at the blank wall of the bedroom, feeling out of place. He could hear as Sebastian finished cleaning and then stalked off towards his bedroom. There was little noise, no fighting that he could hear. Perhaps Jim was already asleep or Sebastian was spending the night on the sofa. Greg almost wanted to turn around and scream into the pillow the way he used to when he had stupid teenager fights with his parents. He’d screwed up with Sebastian. He would have to live with the question of what would have happened if they hadn’t broken up. Now he would need to find a way to move on. Close a chapter of his life as he fell asleep and start a new one when he woke up.


End file.
